


Give Me This, at Least

by telm_393



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Identity Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:19:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_393/pseuds/telm_393
Summary: Four damned souls, four real names.





	Give Me This, at Least

**I.**

 

“It’s Eleanor. Not Ellie.” She always has to clarify this when she gets to a new school. Sixth grade is no different.

“Aw, but Ellie’s such a sweet name!” her teacher says, smiling.

She’s wearing a cashmere cardigan and reeks of old money, and some of her pink lipstick’s rubbed off onto her teeth, but Eleanor’s sure as hell not gonna tell her that.

Eleanor curls her lip and informs Little Miss Teach for America, “I’m not a piece of fucking candy.”

She gets sent to the principal’s office.

But no one calls her Ellie after that.

 

 _Say my full name,_ she tells her boyfriends every time they think that just because she’s fucking them they’re entitled to call her that goddamn _pet_ name.

“C’mon, Eleanor’s too big a name for someone as small as you,” some guy says one time, smirking.

Eleanor doesn’t feel bad at all when she kicks him out of her bed and then out of her apartment.

“For that? C’mon, it was just a joke!”

“It’s not a joke if it’s not funny.” The words are angry, but Eleanor says them in a disinterested monotone while she checks out her nails. She’s already forgotten his name.

He starts to say something. She slams the door in his face and figures he’ll take the hint.

She should get a manicure.

 

Eleanor never met another Eleanor Shellstrop when she was alive. She doesn’t even think she met another Eleanor, even though she met plenty of Ellies. 

They didn’t count, though.

Eleanor has always been on her own, always been Eleanor Shellstrop, the one and only, so when the good Eleanor walks through the door, she feels her world crack like a mirror, because there she is.

_Eleanor Shellstrop._

The good one.

The _better_ one.

Here to take away what she has.

Just her luck.

 

**II.**

 

Chidi’s always liked his name. Always liked both his names.

They’re good, they’re his, and he never has to hesitate when he says them, because they’re _true._

Sometimes it feels like all Chidi Anagonye can be sure of is that his name is, in fact, Chidi Anagonye.

But at least he always, always is, even when it seems like he’s the only one.

(Sometimes Chidi can’t help but think that the people who can’t seem to ever figure out how to say his name aren’t even trying.)

 

It’s Chidi’s second week working at the Sorbonne, and he’s at a nice restaurant with several colleagues, pretending he’s happy that he’s being interacted with and not stressed out of his mind.

Another professor asks him where his name is from, what it means.

Chidi doesn’t say anything like, “Well, where is your name from? What does François mean?”

It wouldn’t be polite.

It’s one of the Linguistics professors who answers the question, pulls her long blonde hair out of her face and informs the table that ‘Chidi’ means ‘God exists’. In the Igbo naming tradition, you see, names that begin with the element ‘Chi’ always have to do with God.

Chidi smiles and nods placidly, even though he’d been about to say the exact same thing.

 

Eleanor isn’t his soulmate, and the thought loops through his head over and over as he hears her try to say his name.

At least she knows his first one, he tries to tell himself, but she’s sure that he’s saying his own name wrong _,_ and he feels his heart fraying, because his soulmate would say his name right the first time, if she were here, but she’s not. Instead, he has…Eleanor.

It’s not fair.

She trips her way through nonsense words that almost sound right, until she gets to, “Ariana Grande,” and gasps. “That’s a name!”

_That’s a name._

Yes.

But it’s not his.

 

**III.**

 

Usually when Tahani tells people her name they say it’s so pretty, so lovely, so beautiful, just like she’s so pretty, so lovely, so beautiful, and she agrees, of course, and tells them what it means, revels in the fact that every time someone says her name, they’re complimenting her.

 

_Congratulations, beautiful._

_Congratulations._

Tahani really does love her name, just like she loves herself. Sometimes more.

Not that she ever doesn’t love herself, but—

Not the point.

Her name is a celebration.

It’s the best thing her parents ever gave her, even though she has the suspicion that they like the name _Kamilah_ better.

It doesn’t matter.

The name _Tahani_ stopped being theirs the moment they gave it to her.

And Tahani stops being theirs the moment she realizes they forgot it.

 

Tahani tells Eleanor what her name means and trails off so that Eleanor can fill in, “…Congratulations, beautiful.”

Tahani beams. “Thanks, Eleanor, you big flirt!”

_Congratulations, beautiful._

That’s always such a good little icebreaker, she thinks happily as she considers the fact that, if she counts every time someone referred to her by name, she probably got more compliments during her life than her sister, Kamilah.

 

**IV.**

 

When Jason’s little, everyone calls him Jamie. They keep calling him Jamie when he tells them to stop, when he tells them he doesn’t like it.

It makes it sound like he's a little kid.

After a while he stops telling them to stop and pretends it was his choice all along.

That’s something he does a lot.

 

If people know his name before they see him, they think he’s Mexican.

If they see him before they know his name, they think he’s Chinese. Then Japanese. Then, okay, uh, if you’re not Japanese you’re…Korean?

No one outside the trailer park he lives in knows he’s Filipino, not until he tells them.

Now everyone thinks he’s Taiwanese, and it’s probably the most familiar thing about whatever this place is.

 

Eleanor asks, and he's finally able to say the truth, say that _no,_ Jianyu isn't his name.

It's Jason Mendoza.

It feels good to clear that up.

Now he gets to be Jason again, sometimes, but not even always.

Even when everyone knows the secret of who he is, they still sometimes say _Jianyu_ before they say _Jason,_ like just because that’s who he has to pretend to be, that’s who he is, and Jason doesn’t like hating things, but he totally hates it.

He hates keeping secrets.

He hates how everyone tells him who he is and what to do.

He hates being quiet.

He hates that he doesn’t have anything to say.

And, he thinks every single time he looks in the mirror, he _really_ hates Jianyu.

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is serendipitouscontaminant.tumblr.com; come talk to me about The Good Place!


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